


rainwater

by gingergenower



Series: his other lovers [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I wanted to know why camille saved magnus, Immortality Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 11:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18010142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: 'If it wasn't for Camille... I wouldn't be here right now.'-Magnus, 2x04





	rainwater

_London, 1871_

The rain pours. Camille’s drenched to her corset, petticoats sodden and satin boots spoiled, but she can’t feel the cold or the weight of it. She’s only distantly aware- it’s a passing nuisance her new gown will be unsalvageable, water trickling down her temples, her hair bedraggled and all but falling out- and she crosses the road, a passing carriage kicking up water on the uneven cobblestones.

Through the downpour, from a distance, he seems to simply be a man watching the city, but a few steps from him she realises how he isn’t.

On the bridge there’s a barrier and Magnus is stood on the other side of it, the narrow ledge and his balance on it the only reason he hasn’t plummeted into the churning, icy black water below.

Leaning against it, sweeping her dripping hair out of her eyes, she watches Magnus’ profile.

He’s clearly aware of her, gaze too hard and fists at his sides, but he doesn’t turn. Cast in strange shadows by the glow of city, by the lamplight, all the soft edges of his beauty are twisted in grief.

Rolling her eyes, she looks at the skyline of the city, but she’s not truly observing it. “Is this about the boy? The soldier?”

She can’t remember his name- some American killed in the civil war, years ago now, but Magnus hasn’t taken another lover other than to bed since. He hardly speaks to them, doesn’t look at their faces, isn’t interested since that boy.

“It’s about all of them,” he says hoarsely, closing his eyes, water clinging to his eyelashes, head bowing.

He could name all of them, she’s sure; the mortals he’s loved, an ever-growing list number of foolish encounters with feeling. She doesn’t understand why he’d love a wild bird with a broken wing, but in some ways, she can sympathise. She did love him.

“You want to die?”

“Everyone dies.”

“We don’t.”

“We _should_.”

Swallowing, frustrated, she keeps her thoughts to herself. He should never have loved them at all, he shouldn’t expose that part of himself to pain, he should let himself live only for the pleasures of this life because there are so many and so little time to enjoy them before they disappear again. Eroded by the rainwater, even the buildings wash down the drains. It’s impossible to hold onto anything.

Except… the silk shirts he favours under her hands, his dark eyes meeting hers over glasses of wine in the glow of candlelight, she believed she would have him. She saw so many centuries with Magnus as her constant.

“I love you.”

At that, he huffs a laugh, but it’s not happiness in his eyes as he finally looks to her. “We’re past lies.”

“As much as I’ve loved anyone,” she adds, a little more carelessly, honest.

He tilts his head, as if allowing it. His face softens into thoughtfulness but even that fades into hopelessness. “You can leave.”

“I won’t do that, dearest.”

He laughs again, helpless to it, no joy in his oft-used endearment for her, and it suddenly occurs to her he’s been crying the whole time they’ve been speaking, disguised by the rain. She heard he was here, she came for him, how can he not understand-? He needs her to be here, he needs someone that won’t be washed away to hold onto.

“Camille-”

“I won’t leave.” Her tone, sharper and angrier, seems to catch his attention.

Hopeless, afraid, he swallows, looking back to her. She wants to tell him if he jumps, she’ll jump with him, she will follow him into the depths of that water and she will pull him out because god help her, she won’t let him die- but he seems to see it anyway.

“You don’t have to love them,” she says, softer again. “You could love your own, your people-”

“You.”

“You’ll always love me,” she says, and it’s not cruel because he said it to her, the day she broke his heart. She understands it’s true, even if she cannot understand why. “But you don’t have to love mortals, they’re so fleeting-”

“I tried _not_ to love him-”

That damned boy, that soldier who made him smile, if only Magnus didn’t fall for those who made him _smile_ \- and he seems to tip forward, but before she reaches out she realises he’s only curling in on himself, arms wrapped around his chest. He’s sobbing.

“I _tried_ not to,” he chokes, and she steps closer, touching his shoulder. When he accepts the touch, relief floods her senses and she moves quickly, before he can change his mind.

Getting him back on the bridge, the safe side of the barrier, she lets him cling to her even though he’s already freezing, shivering with the cold and she’ll be no help with it, his teeth chattering as he cries, and she wraps her arms around him.

“I didn’t want to love him, I don’t _want_ to have loved any of them-”

“I know,” she says softly, and she feels his fingers tighten too hard around her waist, the echo of pain if she could feel it. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't agree with her or who she became, but... this was super interesting to write.


End file.
